Pokhara

"Imagine a perfect triangular mountain, capped by snow and buffeted by the icy winds of the Himalaya. Imagine a millpond calm lake, perfectly reflecting the snowy peaks. Now imagine a village on the lake shore, thronged by travellers and reverberating to the sound of 'om mani padme hum'. That's Pokhara," says the Lonely Planet.

I'm sure the real Pokhara is like that. But after two and a half weeks clinging to the side of mountains it was time to let the hair down and immerse ourselves in relaxation and libation! Ironically, no sooner had we pitched up in Pokhara than we were reacquainted with Jeff and Gary - with whom we shared a messy post-trek drink in Lukla - who too were keen to wash platefuls of red meat down with a micro-brewery, after just arriving from Chitwan. Time for a drink, or ten!

And that was how it unfolded. Five days of doing absolutely nothing, except eat, drink and relax. It took us four days to get our arses into gear and hire a boat for the afternoon, and even that felt too much like hard work! Mind you, Marit managed to make the most of the "millpond calm" waters by stripping off and plunging in. I thought it a good time to inject a little elbow grease while behind the oar. Marit didn't.

Pokhara, despite being Nepal's' second city and home to some of the country's most amazing scenery, was a holiday within a holiday. Evenings were spent ordering Gorillas' Farts (a kind of poor mans cocktail that hits the spot fast) and dining on fine food. You name it we ate it during the five days. Even Nepali kebabs were devoured on the nights we stumbled out of Busy Bee!

Then there were the massages! Oh my God! Fixed up by the hotel manager - big hand please for Green Park Hotel boss Mr Sagar - we both endured two hour-long sessions on the table. Never before have I had the pleasure, if you can call it that, of my buttocks being pummeled by another man. But hell was it worth it! For four hours the smallest Indian lucky enough to cross into Nepal worked the knots breathed life back into our aching muscles. Think we'd have had another two hours each if it weren't for the price. Four pound an hour. Scandalous!

It's difficult to kill time in a place like Pokhara. Time is of noconsequence because "Happy Hour" lasts forever! And when finally the Gorillas' Farts run dry, there's always a nice bottle of red to be savoured. But perhaps the best thing about Pokhara is it's sunset which can make even the warmest Nepali beer taste good!